last blog post evah.

well, here at least....

have to kill the paper trail.
multiple years of mind vomit is pretty destructive.

late nights mean drunkassbitch mornings

eloquence is so fleeting.

i need to get out more. the adventure i crave is not found on the homefront.
in 2009, i will travel more. i will reconnect. i will be More Adventurous.
i will take the opportunities i pass up because of issues such as
"morality" and "foresight" and "conscience."

I will live closer to the edge, less controlled, less clothed, more barefooted, more daring, more brazen, brighter, faster, stronger burning, lasting, fighting, flaring, bursting.

i just had to watch a friend of mine, with her boyfriend (newly met, for me, not her) be so in love. SO in love. it hurts to watch but it's such a good hurt, because she deserves that love. it keeps coming up that i am the "painfully single" friend and i hate hate hate that label. this titular pronouncement was probably originally my fault, which burns like acid even more. i need to have more sex to counter it, because being single can be a choice if you are voracious enough in bed with many men; it makes it so that freedom is a necessity of your lifestyle an thus an informed choice.

it has been so long since i have been at work that i think i have forgotten how.
i have freshly ironed "slacks" (what a disgustingly archaic word) though, so
i will be fine.
i will wakeupthrowonclothesmakesomecoffeeeatamelonrunoutthedoordrive20minutes
and go do what i have been doing for six months now.

it IS december, despite me not paying attention to things like
months
and time
and daylight hours.

por eso (per this)...
christmas was a footnote in this year, one which is still negatively affecting the family unit.
there was sickness
(my mother's cold and my cousin's vomiting)
and there was drama
from the great aunt hurt by the grandmother's chickenheaded meanness
to my mother's sister's august blow up coming to a head
to the side taking and shit talking
to the uncomfortable "dropping in" of random-ass guests....etcetcetc.

there have been gifts returned with malice,
all except mine and the sisters, from one aunt who is causing trouble...
for reasons either vaguely formulated or completely bewildering
(including why she returned an envelope with $11 dollars in it
which no one gave her
and her radio silence makes it impossible to figure out directly...)

all the stupidity,
and the awkwardness
and the power battles involved in inviting half the family
to one christmas gathering DURING the usual christmas gathering time (etcetcetc)

...it makes it easier to imagine leaving in nine months for school or whatnot (should i not get in and am forced to make a move to save my brain. maybe india.)
i stayed here to be close to them,
but they are all insane stage actors bent on the Win.

sometimes i wonder about the adventure i want.
i need more, i know that.
i don't want to go stale inside my shell.
if ever there was a better time...
(it would be nine months from now)

from the rapidly dwindling $200 in my account from my days of destitution - couch surfing, beach dwelling, car sleeping on beautiful bourgeoisie East Coast islands --- to now, my three-job, no rent, parentally-encumbered life style a year and a quarter later...i am now sitting on 20Gs...just sitting, like some baked brie-brained chicken on a nest egg she has no idea how to crack into.

that is ---despite my logical, conservative (republican) side's view---a lot of money.
i owe more than I have in student loans,
but haven't paid off the principles,
because my car is headed out to the garage in the sky,
and due to some quick fixes we made for the cold weather months
will not last the warm weathered ones,
and due to the nature of failing flagging breaking technology
i know i will have to buy a new computer in about a year,
so i am reluctant to pay off debt,
as debt really doesn't seem all that real yet,
as long as my monthly payments are on time,
but money in the bank,
seems very satisfyingly real and tangible.

so i sit.
waiting.
for things.
to get.
better.


stop.

Dark Clouded Agent Hatred

I am negative.

NEGATIVE: today at work i had to pull a shard of glass out of my palm, see my highschool crush with his longtime girlfriend, stumbled over my feetz, stupidly, awkwardly, retardly in front of said crush, saw 10 other people i hated from high school, was forced to hug one of them because i couldn't say no, had to leave work after first cut despite the intense money-party goin' on from all the college kids flooding the hometown they left for better pastures UNLIKE SOME OF US. LAME. oh, and went home early because despite the modicum of party invites, everything seemed infinitely too difficult to handle because my mood was too dark to consider driving a town in either direction. so i drove down the street to hang out with a bunch of stoned people i've always been consistently living outside the glass bubble of their perfect friendship world, banging on the glass. things don't change much.

POSITIVE: today at work i made $150 on only $600 in total sales, which is more than 20% for tipping and completely unusual, and I know it's 'cause i was vomiting sugary love all over my tables. i didn't get yelled at once and nothing went wrong that wasn't negligible. i think my fake chef boyfriend liked his christmas present, and nothing tragic socially happened. i don't belong many places anymore, but it's nice to know people can be civil when you invite yourself into their houses.

I am trying so hard to fall into the second train of thought, but i am seriously Dark Clouded Agent Hatred right now.

I was pretty low before June.
I bussed tables and babysat snot nosed brats for a living.
I worked, a lot, because that's what i am good at, Robot Cog, but I got no where.
I had no one to love and all my friends moved away.
I spent a lot of time alone, reading, obsessing over other people's digital lives, doing mindless physical art projects that never came out good enough not to destroy...
I spent a lot of time alone, in general.

I was low. Nothing felt good. Nothing was fun.
I felt like i didn't deserve anything,
like i couldn't ever go anywhere.
I internalized failure so quickly, so thoroughly.

Then I got rid of both my jobs and got two new ones,
where i could use my brain and think and work towards something in the future
surrounded by like people with like goals of MORE education and MORE intellectual pursuits.
And I got a night job that required me not to be the bitch of others,
with less controversy and humiliation,
and to make my own money, by being on the same level as everyone else.
It was exciting, the tension, the stress, the opportunities for newness...

It was good. I needed the change. I was in bad soup, simmering.
But despite all this...

I am low again.
I want newness.


My friends came home from far off places.
They came home with stories.

They are having adventures in new places and sleeping with new men -- men unencumbered with the completely passion-killing burden of being so connected to your reprehensibly uncool past. They are living in new places with new challenges and daily new discoveries. They are meeting new friends.

I am stuck here in my hometown.

I left once. I lived in Spain for a year. I went all over Europe, mostly drunk or hungover, being chased by foreign men and learning how to be brazen and bold and less in-control controlling. I moved a state north and went to college, and met people, most who ended up loathing me, and went to giant parties and made friends in classes and lived in apartments and dorm cells. I survived all of that, the newness the challenges the language barriers the social emptiness that required filling with action, positive loud action one must take on their own. I took it, i succeeded, i found some good friends, some, and fell in love with a good year or so.

there is nothing, NOTHING more exciting than waking up completely unprepared for whatever ridiculous, unpredictable thing might happen that day.

and then i graduated. and came home. to live in my parents house.
...what have i REALLY done of merit, of interest, of newness SINCE then?

it's been a long time since i did anything challenging.
sure i work 70 hours a week a lot, but that's nothing. workaholics are everywhere.

and no, jumping out of a plane won't help this. there needs to be a bigger change. a bolder move. a more enticing invitation for newness to take root in my body and spring out through my hair follicles and rupture my brain and explode it in some acid-trippy blow out. i want to be FORCED to meet new people, to surround myself with people i haven't met before so that i can fall in love with all of them, so everyone can start fresh and dangerous. i want out. again.

i am so comfortable.
i hate it.

there is so much i want to read.

working on a 2008 summary.
it's going to be of no interest to anyone but my future self.
my current self will probably even be bored of it.
but shit, me as an 90 year old biddy...
you know, if the grid doesn't go out by then.

I AM DONE WITH CHRISTMAS SHOPPING and MAKING of shit.
officially. at 11pm christmas eve.

tomorrow...

will be long.


OH. I am going to do METH at WORK. Evidently, they tried to recruit my little sister too, cause she has the same polymorphism that I do on a certain allele that renders her and i both interesting to do drug studies on, because the rare homogeneity of the two genes suggests a lower vulnerability and higher improbability of having issues with heroin and methamphetamine abuse. I am a val/val. You are probably a met/val. If you are a met/met, chances are you have track lines. Maybe. Either way. I got some good rare sexy genes. too bad i love methamphetamines. badly. kind of spits in the face of that theory....

so they hooked me up to an EKG and this might exempt me from the study once the paperwork comes back from cardiology, because people are always suspicious of my heart rate. at only 51 beats per minute and oddly low blood pressure, she kept telling me i was "mellow" and i kept telling her i've been "naked on a firetruck" and "consistently yelled at for being ridiculously loud" and i don't think the physiological results match up to my personality type at all, but whatever, my heart will last longer. i will LIVE longer.

a chemical swing dance

ican'twaitforthisweektobeover.
stop.

iwanttotakeofffridayandjustspendthedaylazy.
stop.

iwouldmostlikelyspenditcleaningandrealigningmyselfinstead.
stop.

iwouldputoutsohardcoreforashouldermassagerightnow.
stop.

ihavetobake3dozencookieswednesdaynightfuck.
stop.

ihavetomake2frenchtartcrustsandfreezethemfuck.
stop.

thereisnotenoughtimeinthedayanymorepleasemakemore.
stop.

iamsuddenlyveryunfulfilledaboutmyjobandspendthePMwishingiwashome.
stop.

iamjustdepressedbecauseadayofuppersmeansthenextday'sarealdowner.
stop.

christmas shopping

...is NOT FUN.

1.) tell me what to get the college ex-boyfriend turned good-friend-slash-future-husband-or-so-he-says-drunk to all his female friends.

2.) tell me what to get the histrionic, anxiety-riddled, mega sensitive aunt that hates everyone and probably won't show up to christmas at all because she cries and swears and frightens the small children and had a wicked blow up right before my sisters wedding and had to be sat across the tent because no one was quite sure if she'd make a scene. oh and her docile husband.

3.) tell me what to get my Night Job Work Wanna Be Boyfriend who just bought me a tiny stuffed pony cause I gave him a bullshit "I want a pony for christmas" as an obvious joke to subtly dissuade him from attempting to get in the holiday spirit, i.e. in my lackluster pants, and then told me he was taking me horseback riding and wouldn't accept "no" and has also purchased souffle cups for no apparent reason and thinks i don't know how to guess properly from all of his incredibly obvious hints. i play dumb because i am uncomfortable.

4.) tell me what to get a 14 year old heartthrob cousin i haven't babysat for in years and have no idea what he would like OTHER than NOT something fantasy literature related, as sci fi is very, very uncool. What does a 14 year old boy even want? (I will NOT get him porn.)

5.) tell me what to get my now-wedded older sister that doesn't involve house wares or photo frames of wedding photos cause i never actually finished her wedding present, which was the wedding scrapbook/guest book AND i have no good photos of her in a wedding dress because she is always curling up her nose or plumping up her breasts in them and that's not really framable.


THIS HOLIDAY IS WAY TO FUCKIZNG STRESSFUL>

10.75 hour day...

my office is usually 90 degrees.
it makes me sweat and be thirsty and my skin dries out.
today i played with a blue tonka truck in the hallway.
it was a donation for kids.
(that's my excuse).

today i did no work for work
but finished two applications
one for a PhD (yesiplayedwithablueplastictruck)
and a Masters.
and I will mail them tomorrow morning,
and be done with two more applications
and be out another 100 dollars.

today i realized i work for the wrong PI
and wish I was doing molecular and genetic work
for the bipolar and schizophrenia guy.
(i used to think schizophrenia was so blase.)
it was just rebellion.

at lot of times i have rejected things
that are perfectly fine
simply because people i dislike
love them.
stupid in retrospect.
but when you have nothing else to fight with
you just try to discredit everyone else's prizes.

biopsychological or psychobiological?

*
grad school deadlines loom
i would rather be drinking
oh the stress, it blows
*
my body is wrecked
needs tea and long yoga push
but girl works instead
*
the bed is too cold
all i want is naked hugs
but men are too bland
*
my day job is rough
awkward social exchanges
danger in each word
*
brutal and blase
winter strikes the heart of me
kills the warm happy
*
wish i did not sleep
endless time to learn and play
wish to be robot

*
christmas is coming
money, paper wrappings, stress
not about jesus.
*
want to cookie binge
love handles and thick thighs reign
all hail muffin-top
*
dear earthling menfolk
please be higher functioning
need good talk and sex
*
i am the daisy
with teeth, who bites other buds,
and laughs at bare stems
*
i am the british
your bloody heart, india
brew me darjeeling.
*
you dirty pirate:
plunder, rape, and pillaging;
shiver me timbers!
*
your greek nose upturns
at thoughts of naked fat girls.
will destroy you, jerk.

Why I Am Done With The Bar Scene.

after five minutes of meeting,
re-explaining my job twice,
and informing him that yes, i do still live with my parents,
in my parents house,
with my parents there...

"thanks for the wine."
"welcome....so.....can i get your number or comehomewithyou?"
"....excuse me, what were the options?"
"....can i get your number?"
"NO. What were the original options?"
"......."
"Goodbye."

NO. MORE. DUMB. ASS. BOYS.
from now on, if i get dragged out to bars, i am going to be a massive bitch to everyone with a penis. EVERYONE DONG-ED. just to avoid having to play nice to any more socially or intellectually devoid morons. new rule. resolutions start early this year.

cashmere doesn't belong in the dryer.

I shrunk my favorite sweater.

my soft five-dollar fullcashmere super large
deep neck-ed, sleep-naked-in butter soft sex sweater.
it is now only fit to fit a 14 year-old midriff-baring slut.

i loved that sweater.
it, like the 15-dollar ridiculous-brand-name
high heels of pure amazement
that never fail me
and are so well loved,
that they've been reheeled three times now,
(by, no lie, a little italian cobbler downtown)
was one of those incredible finds, incredible sales
that exist so rarely, and
glimmer as a faint hope in the eyes of women everywhere
when they leave the house
for the mall.

i am not so upset.
worst things have happened.
i wasn't really thinking when i was trying to shuttle laundry through
while doing dishes
and refilling cat box
and feeding cat so he can make mess of cat box later
(endless fucking cycle!)
and sauté-ing asparagus in gyoza sauce
and packing a lunch for tomorrow
and figuring out what to wear
so i can easily get ready and drive to work
half-cocked with sleep-eye,
and baking chocolate chunk cookies
because i need something sweet
despite a pair of newfound love handles
that come every winter but really, kittens,
came awfully all-at-once this year.

lucky for tuck,
the new kitten and my endless love,
this is the same sweater HE loves
and he does not mind the size, i bet.
whenever it is on my bed
or on my floor
he nuzzles
and noses
and paws
and kneads at it,
nosing around for a nipple
because it feels like a momma cat
and he is always, always hungry for
a little bit of the nip milk.

so tuck made out.
he now has a cashmere nipple blanket to molest endlessly
while i am at work
making never enough money
to recreate owning
such a ridiculous thing
as a perfect buttery sex sleep sweater.


p.s. the Italian Cobbler, despite endless grease stains and shoe polish-smeared hands and lack of fluent english, is actually a real estate tycoon, secretly, and charges and arm and a leg for the upstairs offices of the oldschool bldg (also where the homegrown, organic-loving suburb yuppie favorite coffee shop is) where he runs his ridiculously cliche business of his completely stale trade. I KNOW YOU WANTED TO KNOW THAT.

sickhatesickhatesickhate

I fell asleep for two hours at work today.
Inadvertently and unexpectedly.
Chef (non)boyfriend was drunk last night after work
and i stayed even though i had a migraine
buildingbuildingbuilding
and told him not to finish my drink cause i might have mono (or something)
and then he would get drunk (clearly)
and i would have to sit with him until midnight.
he drank it.

i got home at midnight and went to bed.

i woke up at four am because my face was tight with pressure and my head was exploding again, i couldn't breathe through my nose and i was so thirsty i thought i might die. but my calves and my back were so sore and so painful that i couldn't bring myself to move. so i listened to my kitten snoring at the foot of my bed and wished i was back to being unsick, like i was two weeks ago before all this Stupid invaded my rapidly weakening body.

JUST GET THE FUCK BETTER ALREADY.
anyway. i woke up when my parents did at 5:30 and tried to shower out the pain.
i went to work at 7:30 like a zombie,
and when 11 rolled around, i realized i had passed out on my desk for two hours without intending too.

i don't remember even putting my head down.
thank god my office door was closed...

I got one application in the mail. Everything but one component that is going out Thursday is either sent or declared received. 1 down. 3 to go.

I am not applying many places, because I am not even really sure what I want yet. I don't know exactly how to go about my future, and although the thought of spending more than another year in this job is kind of depressing, with an onslaught of fun people exiting for med school in the fall, there is always the european option.

Ideally, if my life was my own, I would pack up my shit
and move back to Spain,
or even Italy or France or Turkey, christ, anywhere...
and spend 3 months learning the language,
until the Epiphany of Understanding Moment hits
because that shit is ADDICTIVE
and i would take beautiful pictures
and sell them to magazines
and take the profits and get drunk in my pensione
with beautiful foreign boys
who love my american curves and long blond ribbons,
only because it is unique and different from the common
unlike in america
where i am evidently too boring to warrant loving.

However, it is apparent that my life is not my own,
and that i have to work as much as i can
work myself into the ground
for some compelling reason i cease to understand just yet
but assume will make itself clear
as soon as i am trapped with children and a family and
laden and girdled with Responsibility and Fiscal Obligation.
Ugh.

fever dreams.

I have a fever again, so I went to bed, and woke myself up with horrible dreams.

I was in a bedroom that consisted just of a white down bed, walls, and a cracked skylight. I was miserable and crying because my sisters were dead. They had been burned on funeral pyres because the world was run by misogynist scientologists who were testing all american women's faiths by burning them if they weren't religious robots. A new national mandate makes it necessary to either give yourself to the fire immediately or think about it for 166 days and then do it. My sisters had read a book I found in their rooms with a bookmark on the place where it mentions that you will be potentially spared if you're gung ho about this assisted suicide by fire, cause then the faceless religious board would assume you are really authentic and won't kill you, in order to keep authentic robot women around and weed out the ones who wait. So they got all dressed up in flowy white pajamas and went to los angeles and entered into a facility and end up getting burned anyway. the other room in this house was a living room with no furniture, just paintings on the wall. my dad was in the corner, finishing painting all the walls from white to fuschia, to match the exact color of a button in the painting on the far wall, that my sister had made. i broke down sobbing but he ignored me. i could just keep picturing them sitting in a cell, with other white pajamed book readers, waiting for the exact moment they would be told their faith had been tested and they were approved and they could go home and not have to deal with getting burned up into carbon. and i kept wondering the exact moment they knew this was a scam and they were going to die, and what and who they thought about - their husband or boyfriend or my parents, and if they tried to get out of the facility but couldn't. there was a woman in the bedroom now and she was telling me i had to go get burned too, and she was sending people to come get me since i was a runny mess with patchy makeup. she was the mother of an exboyfriend of mine, and she was being very matter of fact about it. i tricked her, somehow, into letting me wait the full 166 days and we went to dinner so i could pretend to be happy about dying on a pyre. when she was convinced, as she was very stupid, it started to rain through the cracked skylight, downpouring acidic rain all over the huge, beautiful white bed. i tried to close the skylight by jumping at it, slamming my hands so it would budge and fall into place and keep out the rain but it just kept burning my hands and my face, so i ran out of the house and ended up in my parents bedroom. i asked my mother, who was packing, why she wasn't so upset her daughters were dead, and she said she had a lot on her mind, as she was suddenly getting a divorce from my father. she said she tried to stop it, but my dad wanted out, to marry the dimbulb women in the bedroom who wanted to burn me. i started to sob again because i knew my mother would die soon, without a mate to keep her going, as people don't last long alone when they are older. she didn't seem to notice, and kept packing her sweaters into a big black suitcase. i wanted to get back at the women who wrote the book about giving yourself up to the pyres with gusto. I knew it was a woman, somehow, so i found her, eventually, and I went to her dressing room where she was giving talks to college women about the ease of fire-death and how important it is to show the leaders that you are willing to die for religion. I snuck in and covered myself, and shot her in the forehead, with a block of wood behind her head to catch the bullet. she spattered blood everywhere and then i ran. forever.

meth rabbits

1.) I got an 1150. I did not bomb it, but it's still not great. I sent it to schools. We'll see. I thought i did much worse, but the section that i guessed for ten questions straight on ended up not counting because it was the fake-out experimental section. i hate standardized testing. i believe i would do better naked, with a knife strapped to my thigh, killing small animals as a means for survival.

1a.) i love people who use the term "when the grid goes out..." and really are concerned about societal breakdown.

1b.) i miss retro/vintage apocalyptic literature and think stanislaw lem should make a come back. he's probably dead though. vonnegut certainly is. sadness abounds.

2.) there is a 180 lb, legless animal hanging by his stumps in our garage, his innards in a big red keg tub. i want to take a photo but i am afraid everyone will consider me a future psychopath if i were to die tomorrow and they were to go through all the photos on my laptop THOSE ARE PRIVATE NO YOU CANNOT LOOK EVEN IF I AM DEAD.

3.) i want to be pregnant. right now. i'm jealous of a girl i am fbookfriends with but don't really know and haven't talked to/seen since...i was 16? but she is pregnant. and it's like looking at other people's fantastically beautiful vacation shots and wishing desperately you could go to the same place and see such beauty in the flesh. knock me up. please. i will print that on a tshirt and wear it to a bar tomorrow.

4.) i feel funny. no, it's not Pregnant.

5.) i am coming to terms with being here in this dingy city in this puritanly boring state for another year, because i do not feel like i am going to go anywhere that warrants leaving any time soon. i should make the most of it. it's not going to change.

6.) i wish #5 wasn't true, because i want to fall in love, desperately undeniably unrelentingly in love, and i know this state and town and place has nothing to offer me in that department but low-functioning males with baggage and a seriously unflattering lack of ambition. women are not an option - they cannot get me pregnant.

7.) there is so so so much shit to do tomorrow at work. i don't even want to think about it. i haven't actually done anything work-related during work-hours at my work's office since....last monday. granted, i was sick. bad sick. and i am still sick, but seriously. i am the worst worker ever. i do not feel bad about this. i just know i have to compensate or people will start to notice.

8.) there needs to be more edge and beauty in my world right now. things are too bare walled boring for me. i am going to start drawing on walls pretty soon.

9.) we're all going to be okay. everyone is going to be okay.

10.) when i am on my deathbed, this is the thought i will have: "i could have done so much more/i could have lived so much more violently, passionately, brightly/i could have done it alllll better." WHENEVER ANYTHING "ENDS" this is what i think. I will die unsatisfied, regretful, sad. i can't let that happen. i need to be more adventurous, more out of control, more dangerous, or i will regret the bland white bread that my life will be.

PROMISE.

AH! AH! AH! anxiety song.

I spent all day studying.
I am ignoring everything essential that i should be doing at work.
and i am studying.

and tomorrow,
i'm gonna wear bright fucking red,
BRIGHTFUCKINGRED
and adopt your attitude, mousekiller,
that fuck 'em if they don't like it.

i am guessing
i will get
an 1100.
540 math
560 verbal (because i ignored studying it entiiiirely).
wait, does that add up to 1100?
shit.


ah! ah! ah! PSYCHINGUPSELF! YESYESYES!
i was so tempted to make a list
of everything i want to do
once my stupid grad apps are done
or at least the phd ones.
(i won't get in. i know it. but i try. always try.)

1.) wear a lot of light yellow to pretend it's spring
2.) make everyone i love pie and cookies
3.) NOT CALL THAT BOY (no ambition)
4.) go dancing, get drunk, be irresponsible
5.) be more fun, go back to being social
6.) visit boston/nyc/d.c.
7.) paint something

you know i'll never get to it.
the slow times are overrr.
but that's okay!

SARS! SARS! SARS!

So I think it's viral meningitis?

Which just means it hurts, bad, in the head (fucking constantly), and, like having the flu, there is nothing I can do about it except continue to eat bottle after bottle of tylenol, ignore the weird vision distortions and the constant pounding headache, and attempt to sleep despite my neck feeling like i've been hunched over in a cramped spanish train seat for 12 straight hours.

i thought it was the flu but my face isn't leaking.
it might be a cold but the sudden fever wouldn't factor into that nicely enough.
that and the fact that my immunization is maxed out from the shot i got five years ago,
(but maybe that was just for the bacterial?)
and,
i hang out with a bunch of statistically significant carriers (afroamerican adolescents)
and my head has NEVER hurt this much,
makes me think it's something else. something brainish.

i wonder if i go get an mri tomorrow what might come of it.
i wonder if you'll be able to see inflammation in the structural scans.
i should probably know that...

ISHOULDBESTUDYING, but instead i am focusing on why my brain feels like it's going to explode any second now.

ugh.
fuckfuckfuck.
the fever was worse, but this is lash-out-and-hurt-people painful, constant and droning painful.
fuckfuckfuck.